Flesh and Feathers (10 page)

I stood there holding the two garbage bags as I looked up into the sky. The sun shined down to the alley, between the two buildings. I used to hate taking the trash out back because it always seemed closed in and isolated, but with the sun sneaking down onto the street, it made me feel unchained from the hustle and bustle of the busy day.
 

After a minute of soaking myself in the sun, I figured that I’d better hurry up and get back inside. I’m sure they would have sent a search party to look for me if I was gone longer than ten minutes.

As I walked over to the dumpster, I noticed a large black crow that was sitting on top of it. It wasn’t uncommon to see crows around the city, but usually when they saw a person they would fly off. This bird just sat there–eyeing me, as I got closer.

“Shoo,” I fussed at it, hoping to scare it away, but he wouldn’t budge.

I looked around and saw a broom lying against the brick wall near the back door. I placed the trash on the ground and picked up the broom, inching my way towards the bird, which looked to be the size of a small dog.

“Sorry, Buddy, but you’ve got to go,” I said, warning him. As I got closer, he crouched down and spread his wings. Looking at him, a small knot formed in the pit of my stomach, causing a strange tingling feeling to run through me. I didn’t like this feeling at all, and I didn’t understand where it was coming from.

I shoved the broom at the bird with a single lunge, and he took off flying. The sound of his wings beating against the air carried through the alleyway. Then that feeling I was having turned into something else. A memory possibly… or maybe it was déjà vu. I watched him climb as he flew, soaring over the buildings and then disappearing into the sky.

When he was gone, I shook my head as the remnants of the bizarre feeling exited my body, leaving me a little shaky. I dropped the broom and grabbed the garbage, dragging them closer to the dumpster. Where the bird had been, there was a large tear in metal. The sides of the gash were jagged and had been peeled back. I leaned in closer.
Was that blood?
I asked myself.

I had reached out to touch it, when I heard the back door of the diner swing open, and Tannah called out my name. “Az! What is taking so long? Charlotte has dropped two plates of food. I need you in here!”

“Coming,” I called to her as I tossed the bags in the dumpster and then turned to go back inside.

***

It was Saturday, and my first day off in a week. I was pretty excited about it–my goal was to do some major cleaning to my much-neglected apartment.
 

After hours of slaving, everything was completed. Last chore was laundry, which I had to take down to the lower level of the complex–where the laundry facility was located. I stuffed the hamper until it was overflowing. It was amazing that one person could have this many clothes to wash.
  

I stepped out of my apartment, and while locking the door behind me, I looked up to see the back of a man standing in front of the mailboxes that lined the hallway walls. His muscles were tense, and he was moving back and forth while mumbling under his breath. I smiled as I listened to him fuss at one of the mailboxes. I wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, so I stretched to my tiptoes to view over his shoulder, hoping to get a better look. When I realized what he was doing, I let out a gasp. He was scrapping Mr. Parker’s name off the mailbox. He had successfully removed the “E. PAR” and was working on the “K”.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, as I threw my basket of clothes down. He was completely caught off guard and was unable to respond.

“I said what are you doing?” I repeated, with surprisingly more force than the first time.

“I was trying to remove the name.” His words were filled with alarm and spoken cautiously.

Furious, I was able to make my voice louder. “This is my friend’s mailbox. You can’t just go removing his name like you own it.”

“But… I kind of… do own it. I just moved in.”
 

Realizing how badly I had just overreacted, I stepped back, hanging my head, and apologized.
 

“Oh…, I’m sorry. My friend used to live there.” The apology was not sufficient enough for my behavior.

I looked away to find that when I had dropped my hamper to the floor, my clothes had spilled out. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. The basket was bursting at the seams from where it had been over-stuffed.

“I thought this was one of the safer neighborhoods,” he said, as we bent down simultaneously to reach for the hamper. “I didn’t realize I would need to carry my mace with me to my mailbox,” he continued.

“Mace,” I said, embarrassed that he might actually think he needed protection.
Great! That’s all I needed was to have a formal complaint made. I could see it now,
“
Mailbox stalker attacks new resident
.”
 

“Look, I overreacted. I said I was sorry.” I responded quickly, holding my hand up and not making eye contact with him. I was careful to not shout. However, I did use a firm voice.

I thought I would die when he picked up my bra and handed it to me. “Well, it’s certainly better than being sexually harassed by the girl in apartment 2B downstairs. Earlier today, it took me fifteen minutes to reassure her that I am happily married.”

“You’re married?” I asked, almost in shock.

“No–that is–unless, Coyote Ugly, in apartment 2B asks,” he said, tittering a bit.

I couldn’t help but grin. Apartment 2B was a girl named Brenda. She was
not
easy on the eyes and her personality was just as unbearable. I was relieved knowing he had met her before me. It made me feel like my outburst was less significant.
 

I didn’t blame her; it took everything for me not to stare at him. His build was masculine and worked on. And I felt, if I looked into his eyes for too long, I would get lost somewhere in them.

“Well, I have laundry to do, so I should go. I won’t be any trouble–so you don’t need to carry mace or anything,” I said, while repositioning my basket under my arm.

“Have dinner with me.”

“What?” I asked, sounding confused–because I really was.

“You could come by tonight and have dinner, while telling me about my new neighbors. You know, like, who the partiers are, who is sleeping with whom, and who might break into my house when I’m not home.

Stuttering I said, “Oh, um, I’m not sure.” I had just met him and thought it would feel a little strange to eat dinner with someone I didn’t know in Mr. Parker’s apartment.

“Come on… I cook really well.” He
was
persistent. I had to give him that.

“Sure.” Was the only answer I could muster, and this seemed to please him.

“Great. How about seven o’clock?”

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” I stated, grabbing my basket and heading down the hall to the stairwell.
 

“It’s Gage, just in case you wanted to know,” he spoke, watching me as I walked away.

I paused looking back. “Az,” I hollered before disappearing down the stairs.

At seven o’clock sharp, I showed up at Gage’s apartment. However, I couldn’t bring myself to knock on the door yet. Instead, I proceed to argue with that stupid voice in my head.
This is ridiculous. You are at the apartment of your dead neighbor, attempting to eat dinner with your new neighbor, who only a few hours early, handed you your bra after you almost attacked him in the hall. Go home!
Just as I had finally talked myself out of it and turned to leave, Gage opened the door. “Az, I thought I heard someone out here,” he said.
So much for my great escape.

I looked him over.
Did I miss something?
I thought to myself. He was wearing a nice green collared shirt that matched his eyes and khaki pants. Then I looked myself over, feeling a bit underdressed. I was wearing a paint stained shirt and holey jeans.

“I… I can go change,” I said.

“You look great, come in.”

The
apartment
looked
very
different.
Mr.
Parker’s
old
antique
furniture
had
been
replaced
with
a
lush
contemporary
setting.
“Wow,
it’s
so
different,”
I
said.
However,
I
 
quickly
added,
 
“But
in
a
good
way,”
trying
not
to
insult
him.

“Thanks, it’s
Az,
right?”

“It’s actually Azaleigh, but most everyone calls me Az.” I said, correcting him.

“Can I get you glass of wine?”

I followed him to the kitchen where an exquisite meal was laid out on the table. It smelled fantastic. “Gage, this looks wonderful.”

He grinned. “I actually like to cook, so for me it was nice to be able to cook for more than just one.” He pulled out the chair for me to sit. Everything about him spoke
charming
.

I had been worried that it would be awkward eating dinner with someone I didn’t know, but Gage made it easy. He was relaxed, probably more so than I would have expected.

“This is really good,” he said, with a mouth full. I giggled, watching him enjoy his food.

I twirled the spaghetti around my fork, attempting to look somewhat elegant while trying to eat. However, spaghetti doesn’t quite work that way. “So are you new to LA or just to this area?”

He waited until he swallowed before answering. “I’m new to living in LA. However, I have visited here in the past. I’m sorry, maybe it’s just me, but dinner just seems to be exceptionally good tonight.” He chopped down on another fork full of food, closing his eyes as he chewed. He was really odd, but funny.

I grinned as he came back to reality and focused on the conversation again. “I’m a consultant.”

“A consultant for what?” I asked. Consultant would have been my last guess. I totally would have gone with a bar bouncer… or underwear model.

 
“I work for a large organization that deals with security services for important people. They use me to set up their security detail.”

“Like… celebrities?” LA was definitely full of famous people, although I never saw any. Actually, I did see that woman from the hemorrhoid commercial that one time; however, I didn’t think she would appreciate me mentioning it.

Gage paused for a moment. “Yeah..., celebrities so to speak.” And although I could hear a hint of some hidden meaning, I didn’t pry. “What is it that
you
do, Azaleigh?”

“Nothing as glamorous as setting up hi-tech security systems for LA’s finest citizens. I’m a waitress at a diner down the street.”

“Ah, but you get to live life on your terms. Hard work gives you that freedom.”

I had never thought of it that way before. I had to say, I was pretty amazed at how intellectual he was.

It was a nice night. We laughed and talked and for the first time in a while, I felt normal. It was after eleven o’clock, and regrettably I told Gage I had to go because my shift started early. He graciously walked me to the door, and I told him goodnight.

Chapter 9

Statues

I
t was a dry March afternoon. Birds filled the air, casting their shadows on the ground below and making the most wonderful atmosphere.

Mr. Parker and my mother were both buried at Hillside Cemetery, and my plan today was to visit them both. Hillside was the most renowned memorial park in LA. In my hands, I carried a bouquet of wildflowers for each of them. This would be the first time I had been here since I was seventeen, and I am sure it was long overdue. My mother always said it was such a waste of time visiting a gravesite. Most people would have said it made them feel closer to the person they had lost, but not her. She once told me, “Why would you look at marble rock with a name chiseled in it to remember someone? A vivid memory is much more gratifying than a cold hard stone.” I guess she was right, but when I awoke this morning, I felt the need to go–not necessarily to be close to either of them, but more or less to pay respect to the two most important people in my life.

The cab driver dropped me off at the top of the cemetery, which left me a bit of a hike to the sites, but with a day this perfect I didn’t mind. To add to my insanity of being here, I had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a light blue sundress I had borrowed from Jen.